Gizoogle Parodies: The Story of VELMA FURTER
by ConfusedColumbia26220
Summary: I love Gizoogle so much that I've decided to create a parody of every fic I've written. This is the eighth edition - The Story of VELMA FURTER. Nothing has been changed from the Gizoogle translation. Original fic summary: Rocky Horror Chicago Crossover. What happens when Velma and Frank meet? Oneshot. Romance. First crossover, please be gentle with reviews.


**Disclaimer: Unfortuanetly I own no own from Rocky Horror or Chicago.**

**A/N: This is mah first Rocky Horror/Chicago Crossover n' shit. Please be sick, thankies!**

"Shiiit." Velma holla'd wit a slight laugh lookin up all up in tha castle from tha paper up in her hand. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "From Chicago ta Denton, biatch? This oughta be good." Biatch holla'd ta her muthafuckin ass while lightin up a cold-ass lil blunt. Well shiiiit, it started ta drizzle n' it put her blunt out. "Wonderful, just wonderful." Biatch holla'd saracastically n' ran ta tha porch of tha castle as fast as her high heels hairy-ass legs would let her n' shit. Da door of tha castle creaked open.

"Is dis the. . . Furter residence?" Velma axed tha baldin playa lookin from tha paper, ta him, n' back ta tha paper again.

"Yes," Riff answered n' nodded. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! _Of course one of Frankz jam guests would come lookin like dis y'all. _Riff thought. Velma had black hair, cut up in a funky-ass bob all up in tha edge of tha chin, a mid-thigh red sequined dress, fishnets wit red garters, long red gloves; black, glittery high heels, and, of course, a heavily made up face.

Riff let Velma inside. "So wherez dis so-called jam at?" Velma axed not straight-up phased.

"Big up mah dirty ass." Riff holla'd n' started towardz tha ballroom. Velma followed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! They entered tha room.

Velma wouldn't straight-up call it a cold-ass lil crowd yo, but there was like all dem playas at dis party.

Da elevator started ta hum. Velma turned around. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!_ An elevator, biatch? Oh please biaaatch! Give me a funky-ass break. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. _Biatch thought. Frank strutted outta tha elevator. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Long, black cape flowin behind his ass as da thug strutted up ta tha throne-like chair yo. Dude threw off tha cape. Velma gasped. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! What Frank was bustin was not a gangbangin' far cry from her own attire. Da only difference was dat da thug was bustin a cold-ass lil corset. Even they afro color matched.

Dude strutted down ta Velma yo. Dude took her hand but didn't lick it as he'd originally intended. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Biatch was bustin gloves, n' if dat biiiiatch was anythang like him, she probably didn't wanna git a lipstick stain on em. "Enchante, Velma. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So glad you could make dat shit." Dude holla'd up in his ghettofab British accent returnin her hand ta her side.

"And you Frank N. Furter, right?" Velma asked.

"_Dr._ Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Frank N. Furter," Frank erected, "But, please, call me Frank." Dude holla'd.

"Oh, you a thugged-out doctor?" Velma asked.

"Not of tha medicinal feild yo, but of tha scientistical feild." Frank answered.

"Oh," Velma holla'd.

Da intro fo' tha Transylvanian tango came on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Care ta dance?" Frank axed offerin Velma his hand. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "It aint nuthin but fast, I warn yo thugged-out ass." Dude added. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Velma smiled takin his hand.

"I gots a straight-up boner fo' ridin' dirty." Biatch holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Then tha ridin' dirty noize fuckin started.

Velma warmed up ta tha beat real quick. Da kicks, shimmies, twirls n' slides wern't unlike her aiiight routines. Da slowest part of thr dizzle was tha endin dip, n' even dat was three times tha speed of yo' average dip.

"Yo ass is good." Frank complimented as he pulled Velma back up from tha dip. Velma shrugged.

"Eh, itz what tha fuck I do." Biatch holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Frank raised a eyebrow wit a gangbangin' flirty smirk.

"Would you believe these is mah work clothes?" Velma axed gesturin ta her tracksuit.

"I bet you tha envy of other dem hoes." Frank holla'd.

"Then you win tha bet, I am. Even ta tha point where I gotta hide from tha crazies whoz ass want me dead as fuckin fried chicken."

"But whoz ass would wanna fuck up such a. . .beautiful face?" Frank axed strokin her grill gently wit tha back of his hand.

Their eyes kicked it wit yo. _Dude just called mah crazy ass dope! No one says I be dope._ Velma thought. They knew what tha fuck they wanted but didn't do anything.

Eventually Frank cleared his cold-ass throat n' axed "Would you like some champagne?"

"Um, sure. I be bout ta be right back." Velma lied. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Biatch was gettin outta there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. No way would she eva feel dis way towardz one of mah thugs again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. No. Way.

Bitch on tha fuckin' down-lowly left tha castle. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch gots ta her hoopty only ta find dat freaky freaky biatch had a gangbangin' flat tire. "Great son! Now I be _stuck_ here!" Velma holla'd kickin tha tire tha re-enterin tha castle. Frank was there waitin wit a gangbangin' fancy glass of champagne.

"I guess I forgot it at home." Velma lied. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Oh, n' dopest of luck, I be stuck here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. My fuckin hoopty has a gangbangin' flat." Velma holla'd at Frank.

"Shame." Frank holla'd, "Oh well, there be a always a spare room." Dude holla'd implyin dat tha hospitizzleitizzle wasn't a problem.

"Magenta!" Frank called.

"Yes, Mastah?" Magenta asked.

"Would you be all kindsa kind as ta find dis lil' lady a cold-ass lil chizzle of threadz fo' tommorrow n' later on lead her ta tha chronic room?" Dude asked.

"Right away, Mastah." And wit dat Magenta was off ta do her duties.

"Yo ass look a funky-ass bit. . . tense." Frank holla'd ta Velma yo. Dude set tha champagne down on a nearby table. Velma picked ir up n' downed it as if it was a shot.

"Thatz cuz I am. I be havin wack memories."

"Well, would you like ta forget?" Frank asked.

"Oh fo'sho, mo' than anything." Velma replied. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "But not up in tha way you implying. . .thatz kind of what tha fuck I be tryin ta forget, why I be soopa-doopa messed up. Oh, I probably sound like a cold-ass lil complete idiot by now but I - I -" Biatch couldn't help dat burst tha fuck into tears wrappin her arms round Frank, bustin up like a biatch tha fuck into his muthafuckin ass. Frank wrapped his thugged-out arms round her n' shit. "Whatever it is, itz over now, nahmeean?" Frank holla'd up in attempt ta calm her down.

"But thatz just tha thang!" Velma cried out, muffled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "It aint nuthin but not over it - itz still goin down n' I can't do anythang ta stop it!" Velma wailed.

"Hey," Frank holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude tilted her head up fo' her ta peep his muthafuckin ass. "Look all up in mah face. I promise thangs will git mo' betta n' shit. Now, what tha fuck is it you so upset about?" Dude asked.

"I be wated dead, mah playas I've once loved is dead as fuckin fried chicken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. . .I don't want tha same ta happen ta yo thugged-out ass." Velma explained.

"Yo ass - you ludd _me_?" Frank asked.

"Yes, I can peep you a truly straight-up dope n' dope person. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I also peep a part of y'all dyin inside. Yo ass need, n' is desperate fo' love, you just lookin up in all tha wack places. What you need is one of mah thugs ta be there, one of mah thugs ta git freaky wit yo thugged-out ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Someone other than mah dirty ass. Yo ass couldn't gotz a phat game wit me, a safe game. Oh yo, but how tha fuck I wish ta spend all mah game wit you is too much fo' lyrics. I can't do dis ta you though, you gonna end up dead cuz of me n' I can't let dat happen!" Biatch hugged his ass again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Frank was amazed by how tha fuck well she knew his muthafuckin ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch knew his ass mo' betta than he knew his dirty ass, which was impressive.

"No one knows you here, you'd be perfectly safe." Frank holla'd still up in a thugged-out daze. Velma looked up n' they eyes met. They kissed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dat shiznit was a long, dope, horny kiss.

When they pulled away Velma melted tha fuck into Frankz arms. "Yo ass is right." Biatch holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "No one can do me, mah playas I love, or you harm if they don't give a fuck where I am."

"Exactly." Frank holla'd.

"I hereby declare mah dirty ass Misstress Velma Furter." Velma holla'd.

And so dat shiznit was sealed wit a kiss.

**A/N: A bit of a odd way ta end it I know yo, but ay, it works. This is straight-up like longer than I expected it ta be yo. Hope ya'll was horny bout it!**


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